


Nothing Better

by PlayingYourSong



Series: Nothing Better [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: All Ending With Some Cheesy Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Hugs, Kissing, M/M, Movie Night, Puppy Piles, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 22:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1581776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingYourSong/pseuds/PlayingYourSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the best things in life are free...</p><p>A collection of Sterek drabbles showcasing the little things in life that make the world go around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lying in bed as you listen to the rain outside

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All recognisable characters and settings sadly do not belong to me.
> 
> These ficlets are (very) loosely connected but can also be read separately.

Stiles has been lying in his bed for the last half an hour doing little more than trying to settle his frayed nerves and reassure himself that the man he thought had left Beacon Hills, with no word or warning, is really there next to him. 

Derek is a comforting presence at his back where his warm, bare front is slotted against him. He can feel Derek's chest rise and fall with each breath the alpha takes and he finds himself slowing his own heart rate until they're settled into a matching beat.

It has been raining ever since Derek arrived and Stiles feels as though it's some kind of spiritual cleansing, like the heavy downpour after an unexpected heat wave. 

The rain drops are a steady thrum of noise in the background, like a shower of tiny water bullets on the window pane. And even though he's neither ready nor willing to fall asleep, the warm body next to him and the soothing beat of the rain are making Stiles' eyelids feel as heavy as lead. He tries as hard as he can to keep them open, but his eyes are beginning to sting and nothing short of two matchsticks will do the trick right now so he lets them slip closed.

“I missed you.”

Stiles' pulse jumps in surprise for a few beats when Derek's voice breaks through the comfortable silence but he remains otherwise unresponsive. The words had been whispered so quietly that Stiles is unsure if they were actually meant for his ears. So he doesn't say anything, not wanting to shatter the blanket of calm that has settled over them and instead turns onto his other side so that they're lying face to face. 

He slowly reaches up with his hand and cups Derek's face, letting his long fingers brush over the smattering of stubble on his jaw. Their eyes meet for a long moment before Stiles closes the distance between them and presses a soft, closed mouth kiss to Derek's lips.

And here in this very moment, with Derek lying next to him taking his kiss like it's giving him the very oxygen he needs to breathe, Stiles can't believe Derek ever thought he could leave this behind. 

He hums softly in the back of his throat as he pulls away from Derek, gently brushing their noses together in a way he knows Derek's wolf loves before shuffling down on the bed an inch or two until he's at the perfect height to hug Derek's waist then tucks his head under his chin.

“I'm glad you came back,” Stiles whispers, his lips brushing gently against Derek's clavicle with each word.

The hand Derek has resting on Stiles' hip tightens for a second before it slides upwards beneath the fabric of his t-shirt, rubbing soothing circles into the warm skin of Stiles' back. “Me too. And I'm not leaving you. Not again.”

Stiles presses his face against Derek's collarbone and blinks away the unshed tears that are stinging his eyes before resting his head against his chest, letting the steady drum of Derek's heartbeat and the pittter-patter of the rain drops against the glass pull him down into the first trouble-free sleep he's had since Derek left.


	2. Watching a movie all cuddled up

A dull thump echoes throughout the Stilinski household that is quickly followed by the sound of two padded feet walking across the floor upstairs. Stiles looks up as the loose floorboard in his bedroom gives a slight creak and rolls his eyes in amusement.

“Derek's here,” Erica announces, her attention unwavering from the TV screen.

Ever since the Hale pack have started working as a cohesive unit, Friday nights have been movie night. It's the one night a week that everyone makes time for. 

Even if, like Derek, they end up arriving twenty minutes later than everybody else.

A few minutes pass before Derek walks into the living room. All of the furniture has been pushed up against the back wall and a pile of pillows and blankets (that's far too big for a house that only two men live in) has taken its place. 

Stiles and the rest of the pack are all buried within the mounds of covers, their arms and legs all tangled together in some kind of living human pretzel and Derek shakes his head with a fond smile at the sight.

He shrugs out of his leather jacket and toes off his shoes before making his way over to them, weaving his way through the bodies on the floor with nimble feet. He prods Jackson in the ribs with a socked foot, nudging the blonde out of the way until there's enough room for him to slip in next to Stiles. 

Jackson growls at Derek and mutters something under his breath that is no doubt boorish but rolls over all the same and tucks himself in behind Scott.

“Derek,” Stiles says as he turns on his side to curl into Derek's body, “If you know that we're all down stairs, you might want to use this thing called a front door. Just saying.”

Derek hums non-committally and gently shrugs his shoulders, being careful not to jostle Stiles' head before saying “it's tradition,” as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

Stiles can't help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest and wraps his arms around Derek's waist, letting his fingers slide under the fabric of his shirt and rest against the hard expanse of Derek;s stomach.

“You could have at least brought some chips with you.” Stiles mutters to himself.

Derek sighs in an over-dramatic fashion and tugs Stiles so that the teen is half draped across his chest, pulling him down until foreheads are pressed together. “I'll remember for next time,” he whispers softly, their faces so close that their lips brush on every word. 

“Yeah, you'd better.” Stiles threatens before closing the gap between them.

The first touch of their lips is gentle and intended to be chaste, but as Stiles tries to pull away Derek takes his bottom lip between his teeth and pulls him back for another.

“Ugh. Come on guys, give it a rest.” Scott whines and throws a kernel of popcorn at them before covering Isaac's eyes with his hand. “You don't want to be the cause of what I imagine would be some pretty horrific nightmares, do you?”

Stiles laughs and pushes on Derek's chest to put some distance between them and lifts himself up onto his elbows so that he can see Scott. 

“Sorry, buddy,” he tells him with a wicked grin on his face that lets Scott know just how _not_ sorry he is and turns his attention to Isaac. “Sorry, puppy.”

Isaac lets out a playful growl at the name and pushes the play button on the DVD player as the pack settle down to watch the movie. Stiles lets Derek pull him back down so they are lying together once more and smiles as he feels Derek press a gentle kiss on his temple.


	3. Winning a competitive game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This can be read (and was written) as were!Stiles...but you'll have to squint a little to see it.

If there is one thing Stiles has learnt over the years, it's that Jackson Whittemore is a competitive person. Every single chance the blonde gets he will try to certify himself as top dog (so to say). They can't do anything as a group and Jackson _not_ make it into something he could show he was the best at. 

When Jackson is called out on it he tries to put it down to the fact that his inner wolf wants to prove itself., but Stiles knows that's utter crap. 

Jackson has been this way for as long as Stiles can remember--long before the world of the supernatural has become known to them.

It's Jackson's competitive spirit that turns a relaxing jog through Beacon Hills' Preserve into a game. 

The bet was to see who could be the first to reach Derek at the Hale house from the outer perimeter of the woods. The victor only got bragging rights if they won, but with the pack sometimes that was enough. 

As they run through the woods, the real competition is between Scott, Stiles and Jackson. The other betas have been left behind somewhere along the way, but Stiles has no sympathy. In times like this it's every wolf for themselves.

It isn’t that Stiles wants to win necessarily, it's more that he doesn’t want Jackson to win. And Scott…well Scott's just happy to run with them whether he wins or not.

The thicket of trees starts to clear after ten minutes of non-stop sprinting and as the forest around Stiles opens up, the smell of bark and tree sap recedes into the background leaving Derek’s scent detectable in the air that gives him the final push he needs to finish the race.

The renewed surge of energy pumping through his system has him breaking away from Scott and falling in line with Jackson. Stiles looks to his left to see the steel set determination on the blonde's face and barks out a laugh at how seriously he's being about this.

Jackson's eyes flicker to him at the sound and Stiles winks back at him before running up the large boulder Jackson had opted to swerve around and spring-boarding into the open patch of land that acts as the backyard. 

Stiles bounds across the clearing in seven long strides and crosses the invisible finishing line, barrelling straight into Derek who is waiting at the bottom of the porch steps. The alpha lets out a startled 'omph' as he catches Stiles, tucking his hands under his legs to keep them upright as the teen throws his hands up in the air in celebration.

“I don't know how you did it, Stilinski,” Jackson yells as he bursts through the clearing, “but you cheated! I demand a rematch.” 

Stiles lets out a victorious yip and plants a kiss on Derek’s lips before sliding down to stand on his own two feet. “Not a chance, Jackson,” he says with a shake of his head, accepting the congratulatory pats to his back from the other betas. “You'll just have to accept that I won this one.”

If there's one thing Stiles has learnt over the years, it's that Jackson is a competitive person who _hates_ to lose.


	4. Hugs

It is the first time in three weeks that the pack have some time to themselves. There's no crazed warlock (who had seriously reminded Stiles of Albus Dumbledore) threatening the town, there isn't a coven of witches intent on taking over the entire continent and, due to the events of the past week, there are no werebears trying to invade Hale territory. 

The break is a God send after such ordeals, but when the whirlwind of events stop and the relentless pace of their lives settles back to that of an average person, the realisation of what they have gone through hits Derek with a force so strong he almost feels as though someone has punched straight through is chest, not stopping until they were clear through to the other side.

And it's times like this that Stiles takes care of him.

It's no surprise to Stiles when he walks into the kitchen of the newly renovated Hale house that he finds Derek with his arms braced against the kitchen counter top and his head bowed down low. The sharp planes of the alpha's shoulder blades are clearly visible through the grey Henley he's wearing and Stiles can practically see the tension that's built up in his muscles, tightly coiled and ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of a threat.

“You alright there, big guy?” Stiles asks. 

He notices how Derek flinches ever so slightly at the sound of his voice even though he had spoken as softly as he could and winces in sympathy. 

Derek takes a deep, steadying breath and turns to Stiles with a half-hearted smile on his face. 的'm okay. How are you holding up?

Stiles waves his hand through the air in a dismissive gesture and shrugs his shoulders. He's pretty sure he has a bruised rib or two from a poorly timed jump in the woods earlier, but that doesn't matter right now.

He makes his way over to Derek and wordlessly pulls him into a hug, ignoring the twinge in his side as he brings his arms up to wrap around Derek's neck and smiles when he feels strong arms snake around his waist in return.

They stay like that for several minutes, simply taking comfort in the fact that each of them made it home. Stiles steadily cards a hand through Derek's hair as they lean against each other, letting his fingers run through the slightly tangled strands before guiding Derek's head towards the crook of his neck where he knows the alpha needs to be.

Derek buries his head in without a moments hesitation, needling to be as close to his mate as physically possible. 

He can feel Stiles' pulse beneath his lips where they rest against the soft skin of Stiles' neck and draws strength from him as though he can force the tiny electrical impulses to break the barrier between their bodies and flow through his bloodstream in calming waves. 

The constant buzz that has ivaded Derek's brain finally begins to settle and the sound of Stiles' heartbeat reaches his ears. 

Strong, steady and most definitely alive.


	5. Hot towels straight from the dryer

There is a trail of sodden footprints leading through the heart of the Hale household, weaving its way in from the garden to the laundry room in the basement where Derek and a not so patient Stiles are waiting for the dryer to finish its cycle. 

Derek is casually propped up against the washing machine whilst Stiles has perched himself on top of the dryer itself, his head slightly bowed to avoid the shelf behind him.

“How long’s left?” Stiles asks through chattering teeth. The water from the sprinklers that had once cooled him down in the uncomfortable heat of the summer sun is now making his clothes cling to him like a second skin, bringing a chill to the very marrow of his bones.

Derek rolls his eyes at the question, having heard it at least four times in the last ten minutes, and looks at the dial next to Stiles’ knee before saying “Two minutes.”

Stiles groans and closes his eyes as he bangs his head back a few times on the shelf behind him in frustration. Derek watches as the bottle of liquid detergent wobbles from side to side with every thump, dangerously close to falling off and spilling all over the floor.

“What’s the matter, is that too long for you?” he taunts.

Stiles pauses in his movements and slowly cracks open one of his eyes. “We don’t all run at supernatural temperatures, you know. I’m freezing over here and two minutes is definitely enough time to turn me into a human ice cube. That wouldn't be good for either of us,” Stiles flashes him a lop-sided grin before licking a stripe across his hand and pretending his tongue is stuck to his palm.

Derek scoffs at Stiles' antics and makes his way over to stand in front of him. He slots himself between Stiles’ legs and wraps his arms around the teenager’s waist. 

Stiles can feel Derek’s body heat instantly and brings his own arms up around Derek’s neck, drawing as much warmth from him as he can. 

“Is that better?” Derek asks as he rubs one of his hands up and down Stiles’ back. Stiles nods from where he's tucked against Derek's neck and places a kiss to his jugular before pulling away. 

“Much better.” he mumbles before ducking forward again to rest his chin on Derek's shoulder.

The two of them stay like that, Derek unable to seperate Stiles from his heat source until they hear the click of the dryer. He nudges Stiles away from him and opens the appliance's door, taking out a warm, black towel and wrapping it around Stiles’ shoulders. Stiles hums in appreciation and brings the fabric closer around himself. 

It痴 warm and fluffy in a way that only the tumble dryer can achieve and the smell of the (surprisingly) floral fabric softener Derek uses makes him chuckle.

Stiles reaches down into the dryer and pulls out a blue and white striped towel. He holds in up in the air for Derek to see and raises a questioning eyebrow at him. “Really, Derek? I thought we'd established that stripes don't suit you.”

Derek simply shrugs his shoulders as he tries to ignore the mischievous gleam in Stiles' eyes and mumbles “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Stiles barks out a laugh and loops the towel around Derek's neck, tugging on the ends so he can rub his nose against Derek's cheek.. 

“You're so adorable when you're embarrassed, Sourwolf.”


	6. Getting mail

Two months. Eight weeks. 1,344 hours. 

No matter how Derek says it, it still feels like a lifetime since Stiles left Beacon Hills for his first year at university. 

Yes, Stiles is coming back, there's no doubt about that, but it still feels like the teen had gone through with the sawing off of his arm all those years ago and is now holding it hostage, leaving Derek bereft and incomplete. 

So when he had come back from his morning run to see a large, brown box sitting on his front porch, he had felt the ache begin ease a little. 

There was only one person Derek knew who sent packages with bright green parcel tape. And that was Stiles.

Derek sits at his kitchen table now, the package waiting patiently beside him as he clutches the crisp white letter that had been attached in a firm grip and tries to transcribe the spider scrawl that is Stiles' handwriting.

_Sourwolf,_

_Now, before we even start I want you to unfurl those impressive brows of yours. You know as well as I do that you secretly love me calling you that. Would it help if I said you can call me 'Little Red Riding Hood'?_

_I hope everything is going well back in Beacon Hills. I miss you and the rest of the pack! You'd better be keeping the betas under control big guy, we can't have them all turning feral whilst I'm away, haha!_

_Oh, and please remember to keep an eye on my dad for me. I know you've said you can't hear anything wrong with his heartbeat but I'd like to keep it that way, you know? There's no doubt in my mind that he'll be sneaking double cheeseburgers into the office on his lunch break now I'm not there on fast-food patrol! I bet you anything that if you look in the bottom drawer of his desk, you'll find some of those grease-proof wrappers. You know what he's like._

_Thank you for the hoodie you sent in the care package last week. Have you this thing gone ten rounds with the tumble dryer or something? It's so soft! I've sent you a few things this week, too. There's one of my old t-shirts and a tray of lemon squares from this amazing coffee house I found on my free period last week. They're so good!_

_I'll be coming home on the 12th of next month for the holidays and my Dad's already said he'll pick me up from the airport so you don't have to worry about that. (And don't even think about arguing. Dad'll be able to put the sirens on and have us home in no time.)_

_Take care and I'll see you and the guys soon!_

_Love_

_Stiles :)_

Derek puts the letter down on the table and slides the package across to sit in front of him. He releases his claws with a practised flick of his wrist and slices through the green tape with ease. 

The smell of artificial lemons and the apple and cinnamon mix that is unique to Stiles fills the air around him. Derek takes a deep breath in through his nose and holds it until his lungs start to burn before slowly exhaling.

And although Stiles isn't actually there with him, Derek finds he can breathe just that little bit easier.


	7. Hot showers

Stiles stands under the soothing spray of the shower with his hands braced against the wall, his nimble fingers clutching at the gaps where the tiles meet with so much pressure that the tips of his fingers are turning white and starting to go numb. 

His eyes have slipped closed against the thick fog the steam has created and instead focuses on trying to keep his breathing under control, letting the humid air fill his lungs until he can physically hold no more and lets it out in a slow, smooth breath.

The beads of water that rain down on his broad shoulders help to settle him as he feels the dirt and dried blood that's caked on his skin slowly wash away, swirling down the drain in a murky, brownish crimson when they meet in the water.

The glass door of the shower opens with a 'click' and the air that rushes in is cool as it licks his wet skin. Derek is soon there behind him, just as warm as the water that he's now blocking had been and places a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

The shower stall was easily big enough for he two of them (Stiles had made sure of that before Derek installed it) so they have ample room to move.

But Stiles doesn't want to. He wants to stay right ehwere he is, bracketed in between Derek and the tiled wall until the pain of seeing his mate being shot in the woods is washed away.

Derek is, of course, completely healed by now, but he knows that no matter what he says to Stiles will stop the anguish he's feeling at the moment dissapear. So he plucks the lemon-grass scented shower gel off the stainless steel rack and squirts a generous amount into his palm and rubs his hands together to create a lather before rubbing circles into Stiles' taught shoulders.

Stiles' groans are lost in the hum of the spray, but Derek feels the vibrations through his palms like the plucked string of a guitar. His hands work their way downwards until they reach the small of Stiles' back and glide around to rest on his prominent hipbones,the suds they leave in their wake washing away as fast as they appear

Stiles lets his head fall back to rest on Derek's shoulder and lifts his hands above his head to thread through the alpha's wet hair. They do nothing more than hold each other under the water, and no words are spoken, but that's okay. 

Because the fact that Derek's there, taking care of him without him even having to ask means more to Stiles than anything Derek could say with words.


	8. Late nights on the beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for some good ol' cheese...

The pack had set out earlier to a blaze of sunshine and a cloudless blue sky perfect for a weekend at the beach, each of them glad for the chance to leave their flannel shirts and leather jackets behind for once.

But that was this morning. 

Now the evening is drawing in and as the sun inches steadily closer to the horizon, an icy chill is rolling in off the sea that sends a shiver through Stiles.

He digs his hand into the back pack he had brought with him earlier and pulls out a soft, navy blue hoodie Derek had once given him and slips it over his head. 

Stiles buries his hands into the large pocket on the from and absent-mindedly chews on one of the cords as he watches as the rest of the pack finish up the game of volley ball they had started hours before.

Stiles hears Derek's soft footfalls approaching from behind even though he doesn't see him. so he isn't surprised when he feels the alpha sit behind him on the sand without saying a word. 

Derek stretches his legs out on either side of Stiles' body and wraps his arms around his mate's waist, tucking his hands into the front pocket of his top and tangles their fingers together. He brushes his lips against the nape of Stiles' neck and nips at the soft skin gently before nosing at the reddening patch he leaves behind. 

Stiles' toes curl in the tiny grains of sand beneath his feet at the sensation and tilts his head back so he can brush a kiss against the underside of Derek's jaw.

“Aren't you playing?” Derek asks, using both of their pocketed hands to point at the others.

“Nah,” Stiles says, watching Scott and Isaac fail miserably as they try to dismantle the volley net. “I don't think Jackson could handle it if I made him lose face again. Do you remember what he was like that time I beat him back to the house?”

Derek scoffs as he remembers the way Jackson had challenged Stiles to everything he could think of for the rest of the weekend. “Yeah, we don't need him making another bet to see who can eat their burger the fastest and almost make himself sick again.” 

They both laugh as they see Scott wrapped in the netting like a fly in a spider's web. “You are enjoying yourself though, aren't you?” Derek asks.

“Mhmm. As long as there's more of this,” Stiles says, pulling Derek's arms tighter around his body. “then I'm perfectly happy.”

“We can do this for as long as you want.” Derek mutters, pressing a kiss into his temple.

Stiles turns slightly so he can slot their lips together properly before settling back into position. “Well then, big guy, you'd better get yourself comfortable because we're not going anywhere until the sun sets.”

Derek smiles into the juncture of Stiles' neck and shoulder and pulls the teen closer so that he's resting against his chest and whispers, “I can think of nothing better.”


End file.
